


Indelible, Is What I Need to Spread the Word

by thegrumblingirl



Series: I Can Feel Your Anger Marching [3]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Alfred banging his head into the nearest wall because gosh superheroes are dumb butts in love, DCEU - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, M/M, Metahumans assemble, Slash, do you bleed MY ASS, rating due to later chapters, sequel to my version of BvS, superhero angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6636058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The days after Clark woke up were busy, and yet not really. They made a lot of calls — to Martha, to Lois, to Diana. Bruce went on patrol once, to talk to Gordon and apprise him of the situation. Gordon nodded, mostly, and told the Batman to wish Superman a speedy recovery. They finished their coffee before the Bat melted into the shadows on top of the MCU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: the Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I want to thank you all so much for your incredible support of my BvS rewrite! Your comments and kudos have given me the encouragement I needed to get past my crippling lack of actual comic canon knowledge to write a sequel :-P
> 
> You don't have to have read [No Sliding Scale](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6363406) to understand or enjoy this one, but I think there's a couple things set up and loose strings left untied in there that would make it worthwhile to read that one first. Also, I'm gonna be using a few ideas from my [Super Husbands A-Z](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4481888) in here, 'cause I wrote that one after reading the first few details about BvS, so I already had Henry and Ben in mind back then.
> 
> This chapter is just a prologue, to set myself up with the story and to give you the first few days after the battle with Doomsday. I hope you'll like it! It'll be multi-chapter, with the rating going up later, so... let's take a ride! ;)
> 
> Title taken from The Heavy's _What Makes a Good Man_.

“So that’s when I knew that Gordon could be trusted,” Bruce finished his story, turning around to look at Clark — except there was no Man of Steel to be seen. Bruce sighed. “So that’s what that feels like,” he muttered to himself. Directing his gaze upward, he scanned the sky, blue for the first time in days, for any unusual flying objects. A by now strangely familiar vibration in the air zipped past him on his left. He turned again, only to see a blur pass behind a tree line. Patiently, he stayed where he was, knowing that chasing it was fruitless. Keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings, he stood, with his hands in his trouser pockets, turning only when he heard something in the undergrowth. The mid-morning sun kept the shadows short and warmed his back and neck.

Behind him, a branch creaked. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t turn. “Hunting season hasn’t started yet,” he kept his voice at the same volume as though he were speaking to someone right next to him. “Especially not on the big birds.”

“Will you quit it,” Clark’s reply came from just above him, then he landed next to Bruce, a lot lighter on his feet than a few days ago. “I’m neither a bird, nor a plane.”

“You’re right. Rude is what you are.”

“I was listening! You know I can hear you.”

“From 10,000 feet away?”

Clark nodded earnestly. “I can always hear you, once I know what to listen for. And your heartbeat.”

Bruce blinked at him for a moment. Then he turned right and continued walking. “Well, so. Since you were _listening_ , you know that Gordon can be trusted, and that he will help us both, should the need arise. I haven’t told him that I know who you are, but he knows the tip about Luthor came from you.”

“You told him?” Clark fell into step behind him this time, his cape whispering over the grass. “That was just subterfuge on my part, because I couldn’t exactly speak to you as the Batman.”

“I know,” Bruce shrugged, “but I had a feeling that Luthor would expect me to lure you to Gotham, for me to want to fight on my turf. So I wanted Gordon to be prepared.”

Clark nodded. “What did he say?”

Bruce couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought of Gordon’s utterly unimpressed expression, barely hidden behind the Commissioner’s moustache. “He said, ‘Oh good, there’s another one.’ I’m not even entirely sure if he meant you, Luthor, or the general idea.”

Clark smiled at that, but didn’t reply. Not even a week after waking up deep down in the Batcave, the events of Metropolis and DC were still weighing on his mind more often than not — Bruce didn’t have to be a police commissioner to figure that out. It had taken nearly five days for Superman to come round. Bruce knew that exposure to sunlight would have sped up the healing process, but he hadn’t dared move him after the tenuous ride back to Gotham, during which he’d leaned over to check for a pulse so often he’d lost count. Even after Alfred had stabilised him, Bruce had decided against relocating somewhere they could be spotted and found. Not knowing what would happen if they removed the suit, they hadn’t changed Clark into civilian clothing — and that S was a tough thing to keep a lid on. Bruce would be damned if he exposed Superman to the world in that state. So what little natural light filtered through the shafts would have to suffice, along with a few UV lights Alfred had procured the way he always did — without having to ask, and without comment.

They hadn’t spoken of Bruce’s panicked reaction the day Clark woke up and, unthinkingly, removed the electrodes measuring his heartbeat; and they hadn’t spoken of the embrace they’d shared, Bruce’s relief and Clark’s exhaustion leaving them leaning into each other for support and reassurance. It had been instinctive, unplanned, and certainly unexpected.

At some point, Bruce had learnt to mind his surroundings, so he’d sensed Alfred lingering in the doorway, not quite watching them but keeping an eye on them just in case. He’d pulled away from Clark, keeping a hand on either shoulder to help him keep his balance. After that, Alfred had taken over, rattling off questions to Clark about who he was, where he was, what was the last thing he remembered. Clark answered all of them patiently and gratefully, letting Alfred take his temperature, check his blood pressure and apply the standard “follow my finger with your eyes” routine. Bruce barely checked his unwarranted attempt at humour, nearly asking Alfred if he wanted to get a sledgehammer and test the kid’s reflexes, too; but he turned his head away and bit his lip. Alfred didn’t pay him much heed, far too busy recording Clark’s vitals and checking them against the records from physical examinations throughout his childhood and youth. His stats weren’t entirely standard human, but close enough to what was indicated in his files, so it wasn’t long until Alfred declared him fit to move around.

It was only then that Clark ducked his head and looked up at the man who’d been Bruce Wayne’s closest friend and business partner for years with a sheepish expression. “Any chance my clothes are still around? Not that I don’t like the suit, but…”

“I’ll get them.” Bruce didn’t wait for a reply from Clark (or an eloquently raised eyebrow from Alfred) before turning and making his way upstairs.

The days after Clark woke up were busy, and yet not really. They made a lot of calls — to Martha, to Lois, to Diana. Bruce went on patrol once, to talk to Gordon and apprise him of the situation. Gordon nodded, mostly, and told the Batman to wish Superman a speedy recovery. They finished their coffee before the Bat melted into the shadows on top of the MCU. Clark knew that, since the Batman couldn’t exactly make an official statement, he would have to go out and talk to people. To give it a second try at a Senate hearing, too, but mostly just stand up and say his piece. He already asked Lois to speak to the mayor on his behalf, to refrain from building another statue. Doomsday’s impact mostly flattened the first one, and he wasn't too eager to have it put up again. Lois quipped that, after wrangling the President into giving up the nuke, persuading the mayor to leave the monument alone should be a piece of cake. There was a bit of silence on the other end, and Clark nearly closed his eyes. He knew it was a toss-up whether Lois would use this golden opportunity to needle Batman about his own statue down at City Hall, but… she just told them to be careful and hung up. Bruce eyed him from the side, but Clark put on his best oblivious expression and suggested a walk in the sun.


	2. Chapter One: Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark asks a difficult question, Bruce realises something, and Diana is the only one with any common sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookay, so it's been nearly a YEAR since I wrote my version of BvS, "No Sliding Scale," and I started this sequel right afterwards, and then stuff happened, Lori. Things. So here I am, finally updating this beast for the first time in 2017, and I had to rewatch the ultimate edition to find their voices again and, yeah.
> 
> The good news: they're still idiots. So nothing's really changed.

The next day, they received a visitor. 

Bruce was surprised, but pleased, to find Diana on their doorstep. She’d been by, as promised, the day after the battle against Doomsday, to check on Superman and offer her assistance in helping him heal. Themiscyra’s knowledge of Krypton was limited and her return would have been precarious, but Bruce had no doubt she would have done it, had he asked. 

She had also dealt with the government and the military leaders that descended on Metropolis like locusts once the real danger was over, and he couldn't have been more grateful. Other than his brief visit with Gordon, the Bat hadn't shown its face since the fight, and Wonder Woman had only told Gotham and Metropolis officials that Superman was at a safe, _secret_ location. Speculation and rumours in the press ran wild – not only about Superman's safety, but about his sudden involvement with the Bat of Gotham, too. At least Lois could cover for _Clark_ and tell Perry that he was in Kansas, taking care of his mother following a health scare. 

While Superman was out, Bruce had put off calling Martha for as long as he could stand, but eventually he had to. 

None of it was easy. 

And the burden he carried wasn't about to get any lighter. 

"Hello, Bruce." 

"Come in," he stepped aside to let the Amazon warrior in. 

"How are you?" 

"He's fine," he replied automatically, his mind clearly on something – someone – else. Diana raised a brow, and he shrugged. "We're both fine." 

"That's good to hear," she said, letting him off the hook. For now. 

* * *

 

From across the house, Clark could hear Wonder Woman – Diana – arrive. He was still sitting on his bed in the spacious guest room. He'd woken up two hours ago, right around the time Bruce began his morning workout, but he hadn't been... in the mood to join him for breakfast afterwards. But now Diana was here, as expected, and with her the reminder of what had been weighing on his mind ever since he'd regained consciousness. He'd hidden it from Bruce fairly well, he thought, the Bat certainly no stranger to the emotional fallout from disastrous confrontations. 

But if Bruce hoped that seeing Lex Luthor sentenced and committed just seven days after the battle would lift the weight off his shoulders, he'd be wrong. 

They'd have to talk. 

* * *

 

"I've thought about your idea, Bruce," Diana began as he led her towards the main living area. "Have you spoken to him about it yet?" 

He nodded. "I mentioned it briefly, in Kansas." 

If Diana was confused at his referring to Kansas, she didn't show it. He hadn't shared the details of Clark's human identity with her, only his own – which, considering the circumstances of their encounters, was simple enough to put together; at least for someone who practised the same sort of subterfuge when living among ordinary humans. It was for Clark to decide how much to tell her about himself. 

Behind him, a door opened. 

"I wasn't sure if you were up yet," he greeted Clark without turning around. 

"I slept in," came the prompt reply. Too prompt. Bruce hid his frown by turning away from Diana to pick up his empty coffee mug and move towards the kitchen area. 

"More coffee?" He asked, not waiting for a reply before switching on the machine. 

Leaving Clark and Diana to get reacquainted, he kept his hands busy with the coffeemaker. 

Clark coughed a little awkwardly. "Diana. It's good to see you." 

"And you, Kal-El," she returned, and Bruce was surprised by the warmth in her voice when she pronounced Clark's Kryptonian name. He supposed she was fond of it, her own history of an ancient civilisation unknown to humankind being closer to the fairytales of men. 

When he dared a glance, he saw the tension leaving Clark's shoulders. "Sorry for leaving you behind to deal with the fallout," Clark apologised. 

She shook her head. "You were hurt, Bruce was right to take you home." Bruce quickly averted his eyes when she turned her head towards him as she spoke. "And besides, he already apologised." 

"Did he?" Clark's response was teasing, and Bruce had enough. 

"I'm right here, you know," he muttered. Grabbing three mugs, he walked back over to them. He handed Clark the one in his left hand. "Milk, no sugar." He set the two mugs he'd carried over on his right on the table, taking one for himself. He took his black, anyway, and Diana did, too, apparently. Before silence could descend again, Bruce gestured for them to sit down. 

"You said you'd thought about my idea," he prompted her to shift the conversation back to their earlier subject once they were comfortable. 

"Yes. And I have decided to stay." 

"Stay...?" Clark trailed off as if asking, 'in the US? On Earth?' Bruce had to hide a smile at how obviously uncomfortable the man felt at being out of the loop. 

"In Gotham," Diana clarified for his benefit. At the surprised look on his face, she smirked. "It seems incongruous, I know. And I won't just be staying here, actually, I'll be travelling quite a lot." 

"The plan," Bruce spoke up with a questioning head tilt, and she granted his interruption. "The plan is for Diana and me to go looking for more metahumans, and to convince them to join us." 

“Join us in what?” Clark asked, looking back and forth between them. 

“An alliance, of sorts. Metahumans, or enhanced humans like me, defending the planet against another Doomsday. Or, failing that, the next threat that comes out of Arkham Asylum. The question is only ever ‘when,’ not ‘if.’” 

“Speaking of Arkham,” Diana cut in, “I believe it would be wise if I did most of the travelling for a while.” 

Bruce frowned. “Why?” 

Diana tilted her head. “Gotham is restless. It’s only been a short time since the Batman came back, and everything that’s happened in the past few months is connected to Superman; even the Bat’s return. Superman has not been seen since the battle against Doomsday, and neither have you. You’re both tied to the cities that birthed your legends, and you need to be seen. I can go wherever I please, for now. It will be easier for me to search for them alone.” 

* * *

 

Clark could tell that Bruce wanted to argue, but Diana had a point. A small voice at the back of his head whispered that he would prefer for Bruce to stay, anyhow, but he pushed the thought aside. 

The man beside him sighed. “You’re right.” 

Watching Bruce cradle his coffee mug in his hands, Clark tried not to wonder what the people of Metropolis were feeling. For the second time in not even a year, a creature of Krypton had laid waste to their city. If Lois hadn’t… he stopped short. 

“I have an idea.” Once he had Diana and Bruce’s full attention, he continued, “the Batman and I can patrol Metropolis and Gotham, together.” Anticipating Bruce’s protest, he held up his hand. “If we want to establish an alliance, people will going to have to get used to us working together.” 

“People aren’t going to appreciate you bringing the Bat to Metropolis.” 

“I already did. And he saved the city.” Clark’s eyes held Bruce’s gaze. “ _We_ saved the city.” He gestured to include Diana in that statement, but he didn’t look away from Bruce’s face, willing him to understand. “You asked to let you help me. I didn’t understand then what you meant, but I do now. And I won’t go back without you.” When Bruce didn’t say anything, only stared back at him, Clark posed a question of his own: “Besides, will Gotham be so happy to see Superman again?” 

* * *

 

 _Damn him_ , Bruce thought, _damn him and his earnest face_. 

“So we take on both cities?” 

“Yes.” 

“I told you before, I can’t go out in daylight.” 

Clark lowered his eyes and grinned. “I know. Superman will do what he can during the daytime, but Metropolis doesn’t keep a curfew any more than Gotham does. And with the remains of Luthor’s operation still scattered, someone’s bound to try and pick up the pieces.” 

Bruce took another sip of coffee to buy himself some time. 

Clark grinned again, looking back up at him now. “And who knows,” he added, “perhaps Superman can be a good influence on the Batman.” 

“Careful, kid,” Bruce growled before he could stop himself. Clark froze, his eyes widening, and Bruce cursed his slip-up. 

Both averted their eyes when it became clear that neither had the nerve to recover the moment, so it fell to Diana to get them back on track. 

“It’s settled, then. You and Kal-El will divide your time between Gotham and Metropolis, show them that you can work together. I will go in search of the metahumans that we know about so far. I should probably start with Central City. He seems the most… approachable of the three.” 

Clark cleared his throat. “You should take Lois.” At Diana’s questioning look, he drew a deep breath. “Right. It’s probably not fair that you only know half of my story, so.” He paused. “My name is Kal-El of Krypton, yes. But I am also Clark Kent, of Earth. I’m from Smallville, Kansas.” A flicker of recognition showed in Diana’s eyes, but she motioned for him to continue. “My parents found me in a field near their farm. They took me in, and raised me as their own. 

“Lois works for the Daily Planet in Metropolis. She was investigating the crashed Kryptonian ship they found in the Far North, and that’s how we first met. Not knowing what or who I was, she couldn’t let the story go, so she chased me down, all the way to Smallville. I’m sure you’re familiar with how that played out.” Clark pressed his hand against the wooden table for a moment. “After… after Zod, I went to work at the Planet, too. I knew I could trust Lois, and being a reporter seemed to be the perfect cover. I can travel, and I get the AP wire at the office.” 

Diana nodded. “Smart.” 

“It was Lois’ idea,” Clark responded with a small smile. “If anyone can help you find the metahumans, and figure out how to approach them. With her brains and some of… Batman’s resources, it should be easy enough. You’ll have to decide beforehand if you want her to accompany you, though, because she will want to. And she will pester you.” 

Diana’s eyes narrowed. “A reporter?” 

“She helped me – us look into LexCorp, using her contacts in the military and the DOJ. She’s never going to stop asking questions, but she protects her sources. I could always trust her with my secret.” 

“Alright,” Diana agreed. “I will talk to her and make my decision then. Can you get me in touch with her?” 

“I'll arrange a meeting?” 

"That will be fine." 

And so it was decided. The three of them just sat for a moment, watching the table top or the dregs of coffee in their mugs. In the end, it was Diana who broke the silence. 

"The son of Krypton... to think that it was the mineral of your own planet that makes you vulnerable." 

Bruce felt Clark go very still beside him. "This is my world now." 

* * *

 

Bruce was down in the cave, working on a new prototype when he heard someone coming down the steps. Knowing Alfred was out, and having come to recognise his... guest's footfall, Bruce just kept working. 

"Bruce?" 

"Back here," he called back. 

"There you are," Clark said when he spotted him and got closer. "Do you have a moment?" 

Bruce realised this was a request to get him to put down his tools, but he managed to pretend he didn't, as he so often had before. "Sure." 

Clark waited. They both knew what for. Bruce kept working, his head ducked down over the workbench. 

"Bruce." 

He sighed. Alright, then. He put his tools down and straightened up, looking Clark square in the eye. "What do you wanna talk about?" 

"The Kryptonite." 

Bruce scowled. "What about it?" 

"The spear... and the pellets. Did... did you have them prepared?" 

Bruce tilted his head in confusion. "What are you asking? I told you, I changed my mind, I didn't go after the Kryptonite Luthor smuggled in." 

Clark shook his head, but at himself, it seemed, not at Bruce's words. "Forget I said anything, it... I'm sorry." He turned to leave, but Bruce stepped around the workbench and caught his elbow. 

"Clark. I didn't steal it. I didn't have it stashed somewhere to use against you. Luthor brought it with him, for whatever reason. Diana and I just made use of it when we realised." 

Clark avoided his eyes, but Bruce felt his muscles relax under his hand. For a moment, Clark closed his eyes, and released a sigh. "I know that, Bruce. I know." When Bruce kept silent, he looked up. "I believe you." 

"I was being serious, at your mother's house. You can give people hope. And I want to help you. I will not hurt you." He paused, uncertain how to continue. "I trust you." 

And there it was. For the first time in days, Clark's smile reached his eyes, and Bruce nearly froze when he recognised the spark of hope in the younger man's eyes. Quickly, Bruce released his hold on Clark's arm. 

* * *

 

It was another two days, during which Clark had gone to visit his mother in Smallville and Lois in Metropolis, until Alfred cleared Superman for "field service," as he put it. While Clark was gone to arrange Lois' meeting with Diana and brief her on what they knew so far, Bruce wondered on and off whether agreeing to the plan had been the right thing to do. Not so much the part about staying in Gotham to make sure the city knew the Bat was still around; but the part about going on those early patrols _with Superman_. Clark's reaction the day before... he hadn't known what to do with it, so he'd pulled away. 

Of course, working together _had_ been his idea. But working together was not the same as being... friends. 

He was standing in front of the computer, lost in thought, when Alfred came up behind him. 

"Play nice, now," he reminded him drily. "The sun has nearly set." 

"Why wouldn't I play nice?" Bruce asked, mostly to be obstinate. 

"Don't think I don't know where you went last night, making use of Master Kent's absence." 

He sighed. "I had to talk to Lex, find out what else he knew." 

"And to tell him where he's going next," Alfred fixed him with a look. "Have you told _him_?" 

"He doesn't need to know yet." 

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "He will know. And he may have put aside his differences with the Batman for the time being, but I'm willing to speculate that he's got... strong opinions on a place like Arkham." 

"What are you saying, Alfred?" 

"I'm saying it'll be better coming from you, rather than through the newswire. Or the grapevine, for that matter. I realise that you don't want him to distrust you." 

Bruce lowered his eyes. 

"But you have to consider your track record with keeping secrets from those that you... hold dear." 

Bruce was prevented from answering by footsteps on the stairs down to the cave. 

"Bruce?" Clark appeared at the entrance. "It's time." 

* * *

 

"So do you have a specific target, or are we just looking?" Clark asked when Bruce put on the cowl and clicked the latches into place. 

"Nothing specific tonight." The voice changer in the suit activated automatically, and Clark blinked a few times before remembering that he should probably answer. 

"Right, then... where do you usually start patrolling?" He asked and fell into step beside Batman, who was walking towards that infamous monstrosity of a car. 

"Down by the docks, that's where the mob does most of their business." 

A smile passed over Clark's face. 

"What?" 

"Nothing, just... nothing." 

Clark could sense Bruce giving him another ominous look at that, but the questions he was expecting didn't come. He remembered, suddenly, his father reading him detective stories before bed when he was little, and from one of them that 'the detective's greatest virtue must be patience.' He supposed that went for detectives dressed as bats as well. 

"Are we going to meet up with Gordon?" 

The Batman paused before activating the panel next to the car. "Do you want to?" 

"It would be a courtesy call, but... doesn't he deserve one?" 

Hidden by the cowl, Bruce's expression was difficult to read. "Suppose he does." 

* * *

 

Although Superman generally much preferred flying, the Batmobile really wasn't so bad. Once they were at the docks, Bruce parked it hidden in the shadows and they got out.  

"So... you actually _walk_ the beat?" Clark couldn't help teasing Bruce. 

Instead a reply, the Batman just threw him a look, distinct even through the cowl, and unhooked something from his belt. Without another word, he grappled onto a crane high above them, and waited until the precisely right moment to push off the ground. Clark watched, then followed, rising through the air at a steady pace. 

"Not exactly walking, then." 

The Bat remained silent. 

"Don't expect much small talk out of him, Master Kent," Alfred's voice came through the earwig Bruce had handed him just before leaving. "Not when he's hunting." 

Clark didn't hear anything else because he chose not to listen in, but from the slight grunt next to him, he rather suspected Alfred had their comms programmed to two different frequencies – one joined, one separate. 

"Come on. Smugglers." 

"Multiple syllables. Not bad." 

Clark heard that, too. He smirked before taking off after Bruce, heading towards the other side of the docks. 

They had happened upon a small group of men, using the cover of night to extract their own wares from containers probably carrying legitimate goods. 

"What do we do?" 

"Follow my lead." Without warning, the Bat dropped down on top of the men, knocking out the first with a powerful punch before the others had even registered what had happened. Seeing more than one of the others reach for their guns and other assorted weapons, Clark hurried to get down there. 

Dropping himself in the middle of the standoff, he saw that the one closest to Bruce had gotten to his gun the quickest. Turning into the path of the bullet, Superman didn't even blink when it bounced off his chest. 

"That's not very polite," he said, watching the men before him start to panic as they realised just who the Bat had brought along to the party. Behind him, Bruce had apparently taken care of two more of the smugglers. 

"You here to help, or give a lesson in manners?" The Bat grunted while deflecting a strike with a baseball bat with his gauntlets. 

"Pardon me," Clark picked up the man who'd tried to shoot him (shoot _Bruce_ ), and threw him on top of the other two. The three bandits collapsed in a heap and he set after them, picking them off as they struggled to their feet. Within moments, there were seven smugglers out cold, spread on the wet ground around them. Across the short distance that separated them, their eyes met, and Clark felt his heart speed up with delayed adrenaline. 

Without waiting for another sarcastic comment from the Bat, Clark turned to the shipping crates. 

"Weapons," he informed Bruce, "semi-automatic, by the looks of it." 

The Batman stepped up next to him. "Looks that way. Hidden among goods shipped by," his eyes began glowing an eerie white as he switched to improved night vision, "S.T.A.R. Labs. They won't be best pleased." 

"Are they keeping their noses clean?" 

"Trying to, at least. Alfred. Inform Harrison Wells that there's a surprise waiting for him in Gotham." 

"Will do, Master Bruce." 

"Alright, let's call it in." Bruce tapped a few keys on his left gauntlet. Clark startled when something crackled in his ear. "Gordon." 

 _Crackle. "What is it?"_  

"Caught a bunch of smugglers moving weapons near the North end of the docks. We'll leave them ready for one of your patrols to pick up." 

 _"Oh, that's alright, then. Hold_ _on: 'we?'_ _"_  

"Rooftop, twenty minutes." With another tap of his fingers, Batman ended the connection. "Come on. We still need to bundle them up." 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later on the dot, Superman watched as the Bat peeled away from the shadows on the rooftop of the GCPD. The Bat signal was dark, but a man was standing beside it, illuminated by the dim light of the moon. 

Having known Batman for a long time now, Commissioner Jim Gordon seemed to be attuned to his presence. "Evening," he said, his back still turned towards them. 

Coming to land silently next to Bruce, Clark looked to him for a clue as to how these things went, but any attempt at nonverbal communication was cut off by Gordon finally turning around. 

You had to hand it to him: he did a double-take, but he didn't jump or curse or reach for the gun holstered at his hip. Any of those would have been justified at finding the Bat not alone, not to mention in the company of the Man of Steel. 

"Alright," was all the seasoned officer said, nodding briefly in greeting. "I guess I should thank you for the presents, all seven of them, plus firearms." 

"They were Falcone's men." 

"They usually are, that side of the docks." 

"I'm going to keep an eye on them." 

"You do that." In the meagre light, Clark still felt the commissioner's searching gaze. "Never thought I'd see someone like you up close." A pause. "Then again, never thought I'd spend twenty years working with a billionaire dressed like a bat, either." 

Beside him, Bruce showed no reaction, but Clark felt his eyes widen. "You know who he is." 

Gordon shrugged. "Had to find out at some point." As if sensing what was going through Clark's mind, he added, "Couldn't be helped. But I never asked, and I don't plan to." 

Not knowing what to say, Clark just nodded. 

Before either of the three could say anything else, they were distracted by the howling of an ambulance sounding from the streets below. Gordon turned towards the noise, already reaching for his radio. Clark went to speak when he noticed that Bruce was backing up, melting into the shadows once again. 

"Damn wheel never stops turning," Gordon interrupted his momentary bewilderment. Aided by his superhuman senses, Clark could hear the tell-tale _snick_  of the grapple-hook, the near-silent whirr of the winch, and the soft flutter of a cape. Gordon couldn't. "Spinning round and round, 'til there's no-one left to stop it." 

Finally turning around again, Gordon was now faced with... Superman, staring at nothing, his arms raised slightly in the universal gesture of 'wait, what?' 

Clark's eyes darted into the shadows, knowing he must look as bemused as he felt. 

Gordon shrugged again. "He does that." 

Catching himself, Clark looked back at him. "I guess this is goodnight, then." Without waiting for a reply, he took off into (hopefully) Batman's general direction. Once he was a few feet above the rooftops surrounding them, he spotted him easily. Landing softly at his side, he fixed Bruce with a disapproving glare. 

The mouth beneath the unforgiving profile smirked. 

* * *

By the time they were back at the house, Bruce needed to put as much distance between them as he possibly could – precisely because he _wanted_ to do the exact opposite. 

Clark had spent most of the ride teasing him about the Batman's disappearing act, and smiled at him for the rest of it. And he'd enjoyed it, God help him, taking the smiles and Alfred's caustic ribbing over the comms with a few more smirks of his own; but now it was raising old memories. Memories of his family, yes, of his children, but also of... other things. Hurts and wants, long forgotten (long suppressed), lying dormant until, well, when? Now, today? Or, dare he say it, weeks ago? 

All he knew for certain was, it wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. 


	3. Chapter Three: Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is keeping secrets, Clark is leaving, and Diana's making a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: they're still idiots. Alfred's got his work cut out for him.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's come on board for this sequel, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

The next morning, Bruce slipped out of the house and went for a run before anyone else was up, not even Alfred. For all his grumbling about bats being nocturnal, he needed to get some air. Traversing the forest shielding them from view, he knew full well that, if he wanted, Clark would be able to find him within a minute. Reminding himself that Clark would respect his privacy unless he thought he was in any danger, Bruce kept running.

This was precisely why he had always found it so hard playing well with others. Even knowing that the allies he had made him stronger, it could be a regular tug-o’-war between their demands on him – as a leader, as a colleague, as a _father_ – and his damn Id telling him to shut them out before they could hurt him.

Before he could lose them.

He remembered Superman’s surprise the previous night at Gordon knowing his true identity. The Wayne name was a commodity for Batman as much as it was for the company itself, and the sycophants that traded on it – the Bat made the things he used from the money Wayne Enterprises raked in. Alfred liked to joke that Batman was living in Bruce Wayne’s basement, after all.

For a time, Bruce had wondered whether it wasn’t more like Bruce Wayne living in a room above Batman’s garage; and certainly now that he’d put on the suit and cowl again.

The trouble was, he _liked_ Clark. Liked him in a way he had only few people in his life, and none of them…

Well, none of them were here.

When he told Clark that he trusted him… it was the truth, and he’d deserved to hear it. Seeing Batman use the Kryptonite during the battle had clearly put Clark ill at ease, and in all fairness, Bruce was surprised he hadn’t confronted him about it first thing after regaining consciousness. Smirking to himself as he ran, Bruce reasoned that was what he would have done. Being one to keep his promises, the Bat couldn’t have let that stand.

But all of that was worth nothing if he was back to keeping secrets. Out of habit, mostly, but Alfred had been right in his remarks regarding Bruce’s visit to Luthor’s prison cell.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure _what_ he’d seen in Clark’s eyes that sent him running now. Hope, sure, but hope for what? Trust? Abiding friendship. But definitely not the kind of hope that Bruce had spent a long time trying to forget. That was all his own. He kept running.

* * *

 

When Clark woke that morning, the first thing he did while he was stretching on the bed was to listen for any nearby heartbeats. He’d started doing it as a little boy, as an exercise to ground himself in the mornings, to focus on one sound the way his mom had taught him. He’d find his parents that way, knowing by the rhythm whether they were still sitting down for breakfast, or whether his dad was already out working on the fields. He felt the dog’s kick up when he realised Clark was awake, as he always seemed to, even from downstairs. Usually, moments later, something would push the door open and Clark would have to fight off the animal’s excited attempts to stick its muzzle into his ear.

No puppy was accosting him now, but he could hear heartbeats, both increasingly familiar in their cadence. Alfred was downstairs, in the cave, Clark guessed. When he wasn’t badgering Bruce about one thing or another, he liked to spend his time tinkering in the workshop just as much as Bruce himself. Today, however, Alfred was alone. Searching for Bruce in the vicinity, Clark found him, further away and his pulse heightened, but steady. Concentrating harder, Clark realised that Bruce was out in the forest, running.

Briefly, he wondered if he should join him, but considering the way Bruce had brushed him off when they’d returned to the house after their patrol… Clark frowned as he rose and padded to the bathroom. The drive back had gone well, he’d thought. He hadn’t been able to resist teasing Bruce for the Batman’s theatrics, and when Alfred had chimed in with barbs of his own and Bruce had only smirked before retaliating with a few jabs of his own, he’d thought that…

But once they’d been through the concealed entrance and out of the car, Bruce’s demeanour had darkened. He’d refused Clark’s offer to help him catalogue the evidence – had refused Alfred’s coffee, too – and had gone to change out of the suit without another word. Left standing in the lab, Clark had felt Alfred’s gaze on him.

“He does that.”

Clark had frowned. “That’s the second time I’m hearing that tonight. Good night, Alfred.”

“Good night, Master Kent.”

Forcing himself not to jump to conclusions, Clark resolved to give Bruce time, if that was what he needed.

* * *

 

Hours later, in Metropolis, Diana was waiting inside a busy café just around the corner from the offices of the Daily Planet. She had thought it unwise to walk into a newsroom filled with curious reporters when her face had only recently appeared all over the television, although she had found that mankind was singularly skilled at not seeing what was right in front of their faces. That Superman could walk and work among those of a profession that required above-average observational skills and a mind for clues to be put together was proof enough. Still, even relatively certain that no-one would put together the well-dressed Diana Prince and the Amazon warrior with her sword and shield, she liked to be careful.

Observing Miss Lane’s approach from the other side of the street, she wondered if, based on her experience with a man living two lives distinct from each other, yet intertwined, the reporter would do any better at recognising her – Clark had told her that he hadn’t sent his friend one of the surveillance photographs from Luthor’s files.

Lane made her way into the café – five minutes early, but Diana had already been here for ten. Lowering her eyes, she used the reflective surfaces around her – stainless steel coffeemaker, plaques on the walls, the occasional mirror, placed to make the room feel bigger – to keep track of her. Lane’s gaze briefly snagged on another brunette sitting nearer to the back wall, but then passed over her, and kept looking. Making short work of all other women who bore any resemblance to Wonder Woman in the vicinity, Diana tensed as she saw Lane’s reflection make its way over to _her_.

“Miss Prince?” Lane asked confidently, and Diana turned in her seat.

“Miss Lane,” Diana returned smoothly, gesturing towards the empty chair across from her. “Please, sit.”

“Thank you.” As the reporter made herself comfortable, Diana flagged down the waitress as she passed.

“What can I get you?”

“Would you like something to drink?” Diana asked Lane, who looked up from her bag and nodded enthusiastically.

“Coffee, please. Oh! Hello, Marcy,” she greeted the young woman, who smiled at her brightly. With a look at Diana, Lane explained. “I come here a lot to write when the newsroom gets too busy and the coffee too diluted.”

Diana found herself smiling back at Lane’s easy effusiveness before looking back up at Marcy. “Nothing for me, thank you.”

“I’ll be right back,” she promised and weaved her way through the tables.

Not waiting for their order to arrive, Diana took the plunge. “Not a lot of people could pick me out of a line-up.”

Across from her, Lane smirked. “I looked for the person who seemed least like she was wishing for a sword to do some damage.”

Drawing an eyebrow at the change in Lane’s attitude, Diana questioned, “And the rest of the women here do so more than me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you _have_ one.”

Inclining her head, Diana conceded the point. “Fair enough.”

Leaning forward, the reporter looked at her expectantly. “Miss Prince—”

“Please,” she interrupted her. “Call me Diana, if I may call you Lois.”

“Of course,” Lois smiled, then beamed when Marcy arrived with her coffee. “Thank you.”

“Enjoy, and let me know if you need anything else.”

“You were saying,” Diana prompted, waiting as Lane – Lois – stirred sugar into her coffee.

“I was going to ask what this is about, exactly. All Clark told me was that he wanted us to meet because of something the three of you were working on,” Lois danced around mentioning the Batman directly, “and that you might need my help. Which leads me to believe that it’s about trying to find someone, or something.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Finding what doesn’t want to be found is what I do.”

* * *

 

“Taking press clippings, I see,” Alfred remarked drily as he entered the cave and found Bruce going over that morning’s headlines.

The fact that the Bat had had help from Superman, of all people, the night before hadn’t gone unnoticed. As expected, the criminals they’d rounded up wouldn’t be able to keep their mouths shut, and neither would some of the police officers that heard them screeching about it in lock-up. From there, it was a short journey from the GCPD into the Dictaphones of reporters from the _Gotham Gazette_ – much as he knew Gordon hated it, the Batman sometimes had to rely on the fact that Gotham Central leaked like a sieve, even after all these years.

“ _So what does it mean? Has the Batman made a new friend? Or is Superman taking lessons from a vigilante who, for the longest time, has been pursued rather than supported by the police of Gotham City? Commissioner Gordon of the GCPD could not be reached for comment. This is Vicki Vale, reporting live_.”

Bruce sighed. If there was anyone who would never let it go, it was Vicki, and not for nothing. He hadn’t told Clark that the Batman, too, had a reporter he could trust.

Alfred came to stand next to him, so Bruce looked up. “Master Kent is preparing to leave,” he announced with something looking suspiciously like accusation in his gaze. “Says he needs to go back to Metropolis, his _unpaid leave_ is up.”

“Something tells me you’re not blaming me for his unpaid leave,” Bruce drawled.

“No, that would be unchecked capitalism,” Alfred quipped, but made sure to wipe off Bruce’s answering smirk right off his face: “I am blaming you, however, for alienating him when you need him most, and it is obviously the last thing you want to do.”

“Alfred,” Bruce groaned.

“Master Bruce, that tone hasn’t suited you when you were sixteen, it does not become you now. Clark wants to be your friend and Superman wants to be your ally, so stop going hot and cold on him.”

“My friend, huh,” Bruce asked before he could stop himself, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred’s disapproving look turn calculating.

“If that is what you wish as well,” Alfred returned carefully. “In any case, you should talk to him before his departure.”

With a sigh, Bruce hauled himself out of the chair. “What would I do without you, Alfred,” he drawled while walking towards the stairs.

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, either,” Alfred called at his retreating back.

Once upstairs, he found Clark in his room (the _guest bedroom_ , Bruce mentally corrected himself), stowing the clothes he’d brought back from Metropolis the week before into a duffle bag. Rapping his knuckles against the doorframe, Bruce stopped.

“Alfred said you’re leaving.”

Clark turned to look at him, not that he needed to in order to confirm who was there. “I am. I need to get back to the Planet. I bet Perry still wants me to do that football story.”

Bruce huffed a laugh. “He sounds like a real hardass.”

Clark zipped the bag and stood up, turning towards Bruce fully. “Well, yeah. But at least you always know where you stand with him.”

Bruce nearly froze, but there was no challenge in Clark’s gaze, no confrontation. Quickly, before awkward silence could settle in, he replied, “Then maybe I should pay more attention to the sports pages from Metropolis in the future.”

As he’d hoped, Clark smiled. “You should.” He paused, then continued, “especially seeing as you’ll be seeing a lot more of the city.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but only barely, and Bruce bit back a curse. “I will,” he nodded. “Question is, when is Superman going to make his next appearance?”

“Would next weekend be convenient?”

“Oh, you mean like Superman has a day job and can’t stay out on a school night?” Bruce couldn’t resist teasing.

Clark rolled his eyes, but grinned. “If anything urgent comes up, I’ll let you know, but I wanted to check out S.T.A.R. labs, they’re receiving new equipment on Friday. After what we saw yesterday, I want to check that out.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce conceded. “So… do you need someone to drive you over?”

“Alfred called me a car.” Judging by the look on Clark’s face, that still made him uncomfortable, but he seemed to be bearing it with grace.

As if on cue, Alfred’s voice called out from the front of the house. “Master Kent, your car is ready.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Bruce offered, turning before Clark could get it into his head to tell him it was no bother.

“Sure, thanks,” was all Clark said instead. When they reached the front door, Alfred was still there.

“Thank you, Alfred. For everything,” Clark offered his hand to Alfred.

“My pleasure, Master Kent. And until next time,” Alfred returned, shook the proffered hand, and with a last glance at Bruce, turned to make his way back down to the cave. “I’ll leave you to make your goodbyes, Master Bruce, if you need me, I’ll be working on the car.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce called, hoping the subtle warning in his tone would reach the intended recipient. Going by the amused smirk on Alfred’s face before he left, it did.

Either blissfully or wilfully oblivious, Clark now turned towards him. “So I’ll see you next weekend?”

“Next weekend,” Bruce confirmed.

They stood for a moment, Bruce carefully holding himself in place. The air between them was thrumming with things unsaid and Bruce’s own carefully tended secrets, and he didn’t dare move in case he set something off that should better be left alone. Eventually, Clark made the decision for him and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“See you then.”


End file.
